The Saga of the Mutt: From Neglected to Worshipped
by FantasyEmpress
Summary: THis is the story of the dog with the keys, not much more than that. T for safety. Different than my other stories, no sparrabeth it's all about a dog. Anyway whatever! I was bored :s


No copyright infringement intended (i.e. I do not own the mutt).

Mutt's earliest memories were formed in a small door-less shed. When he was old enough to eat, his mother would bring him and his three brothers scraps and small dead animals to eat. She never let them leave the shed. Often, when she brought them food, she would have bloody spots matting her fur. She told them to always avoid things called "man", which were strange two-legged creatures who beat dogs they didn't like. Apparently they were the ones who gave her the injuries so often. One day, his mother never came back, and he and his brothers were forced to leave the shed to search for food. As he ran across the path in front of the shed, he nearly tripped what he guessed was a man. That was when he got the name that would stick for most of his life. "Git, ya' scroungy mutt, an' don' come back, er I'll teach ya a lesson!" the man called.

Every time he left the shed from then on, at least one man or the female of the species, which he was pretty sure was called "woman" would call him Mutt and shoo him away, some kindly, some be beating him or throwing things. Eventually, he would not go near any man or woman, no matter what they offered him. Some seemed so kind, but he was afraid of being beaten again, so he would not go near them.

One night, when he was about thirty in dog years, he was slinking by a tall brick building, looking for food, when two men in red coats stepped in front of him. He jumped back, growling defensively. One of the men offered him a part of the sandwich he was eating. Mutt hadn't found any food since the day before, and he was extremely hungry. Slowly, he walked a tiny step closer. "Come on, Mutt, we won't hurt ya, ya poor mangy old thing." But fear overcame him, and he sat down and looked at them. They coaxed him for the next twenty minutes; having nothing better to do on guard duty. Then one of them laughed. "I say, Reginald, wouldn't it be funny to give the Mutt the keys to the jail cells and watch the prisoners try to get him to come. The stubborn Mutt looks like he's starving, but he won't come. We could feed him, then he'd have even less reason to go to the convicts." "The governor would never allow it. He'd probably stick _us _in a cell and make us try to call the Mutt." "Not if we proved it wouldn't come. Go fetch Jim, he can okay it." Another man came out, watched them try to get him to come for a few moments, then said, "Alright, it is a rather amusing idea. You can try it. But if any prisoners get out by unlocking the cells, you two are gonna be in big trouble." "Yes sir."

The man with the sandwich threw it down a set of stairs, then backed away. Mutt hesitantly made his way down the steps, gobbling the sandwich at the bottom. The men followed him down, making him back all the way up to the wall at the end of the hall. He noticed that there were several men in huge cages going up and down the hall. The two men who had followed him set something down, then backed away from it. Hesitantly, he walked toward it. It was a ring, with several strange objects hanging from it. Cautiously, he picked it up in his teeth. It was metal, not food. Annoyed, he leaned to set it down, but was interrupted by the man named Reginald. "Good Mutt! Here ya' go." The man threw him a piece of bread. He dropped the ring and ate the bread.

Curious, Mutt decided to see if he could get more food from the ring. He picked it up again. "Good!" the man said, and threw him more bread. Next time he picked it up; he had to hold it while the men in the cages tried to call him over. After he refused to budge for five minutes, he got more bread.

So, Mutt's career began. He learned that if he sat all day staring at the caged men and not going to them, he would get a heaping meal. The only thing he didn't like was the fact that he was called Mutt all the time. He knew from other dogs he had met in his life that "Mutt" was a derogatory label, implying he was unwanted. He wished someone would call him "doggie" or "poochie" like some dogs got called. Those names meant a dog was loved, or at least not hated. One day, the "Governor", whatever that was, came to inspect the jail. He had a good laugh over the fact that for a year, a mutt had been sitting in front of the jail cells, holding the keys, and no one had escaped in that time.

When Mutt was forty in dog years, a strange man was carried unconscious into one of the cages. When he woke up, he was infinitely different from the other prisoners. Unlike his companions, he did not smell of fear. He was confident. Mutt watched him curiously for a while, then turned to the begging prisoners.

Tonight, one of the cells was full of scared men. They were calling him, trying to entice him with bones and anything else they thought he might like. He just stared at them. At some point, the confident man spoke, saying something like, "The dog is never going to move." Mutt felt happy; the man hadn't called him Mutt.

Later that night, something happened; an explosion, and the scared men escaped. The other man was still stuck in his cage. He began calling Mutt over. Mutt liked this man, and he felt sorry that he was the only one who couldn't escape. The man called himself "ol' Jack". He moved closer, the man was calling him nice things and acting so nice. Then, he started insulting. Hurt, and hearing the jail door behind him, Mutt ran down the hall to the box where he slept.

Time passed. The man had been broken out by some young pup; apparently they were going to save some woman, who they probably both wanted to mate with, from some nasty men. One day, the man came back, but only for a few hours. With him came a bunch of dirty, nasty fellows. Most of them, including "ol' Jack" were taken out a few hours after they arrived. People who left the cages never came back. Two men were left. They started calling him over. He lay down and stared at them for a few hours. Then the fatter one spoke. "Come on, Poochie. Do you want us ta die? That's where ol' Jack an' the others 'ave gone! Do ya want us dead? Come on Poochie. If ya give me the keys, we'll take ya with us. An' ya can be our pooch, howz that?" Slowly, Mutt rose. The idea of being a pet was too enticing to resist. Mutt was sick of sitting and staring at prisoners all the time. He wanted to leave. They hadn't been giving him near as much food lately as they did at first.

He gave them the keys, and they took him and snuck out of the building. They snuck down to the shore. There, Pooch's new owners talked to some men who weren't much cleaner than them. They boarded a grubby little vessel and went out on a giant body of water that practically made Pooch die from fright at first. After a while though, he got curious. When the "ship" as he had heard it called, came to a "dock" again, he jumped in the water. His owners spent a long time there. They usually fed him well, though sometimes they got all strange and wobbly and smelled bad; and during those times they hardly remembered to eat themselves, let alone feed him. He was pretty happy though. He fought, and beat, a lot of strays. He sired at least ten litters of little mutts. Often, since he brought his mates to his owners' hut, they caught him mating. Once, after they'd caught him probably five times, he heard one of them laugh and say, "Pooch is 'bout as much of a womanizer as ol' Jack!"

One day, one of his owners said, "I hear the _Black Pearl _is careening on that spit of an island some miles west o' here. Mayhap we should go see if Jack'll take us on."

So they left. They rowed for a day, then slept. In the morning, they started rowing again, and continued until about noon, when they spotted a ship with black sails laying on its side, or careening, on the beach. Pooch had learned to respond to the ocean, to know what it was about to do. He felt the swell coming when it was still a good length away. He jumped out and swam to shore, then watched with amusement as the boat tipped over. Pooch did not love his owners, but they were funny, and kind to him, and they usually fed him, so he liked them. He watched them fiddle around on the ship for a while, chasing a bird that spoke the language of man and growling at the little furry creature that had stolen one of his owners' fake eye. Then, a bunch of other men came running. One of them Pooch recognized as the young goof who had broken ol' Jack out of his cage. The man said something about, "not leaving without Jack". Then, Jack himself came running around a corner, with an army of strange painted men chasing him. As he ran by, Jack looked at Pooch and said "Good Doggie."

Pooch watched him go by, confused, but happy. All he had ever wanted was to be called "Poochie", or "Doggie". Now, both had happened. He watched his owners and Jack prepare to leave without him, feeling sadness overwhelm his former joy. He barked, and suddenly felt the eyes of the painted ones settle on him. He ran.

They chased him around the island, but eventually, being an older dog now, he became exhausted. To his surprise, they picked him up gently and carried him to a large chair. They set him in it and gave him a bone to chew on.

Then they bowed to the ground, chanting something. For once, he was loved, and he was respected.

Caninia, as the Pelogostas called him, lived long and died happy. They said he brought large amounts of good fortune to their tribe. They considered him a god. And they never felt the need to sacrifice good looking pirate captains again.


End file.
